Fallen
by tiger002
Summary: He once had great dreams. Now, he's been reduced to a fragmented halflife.


**Fallen**

Life all changed when the zombies came.

He felt it.

The hairs on his spine raised at the slightest wind, the pain he long since tried to ignore

He heard it.

The cries, the screams, the panic.

He smelled it.

The rotting corpses, the decaying flesh, and he had to admit, even himself.

He tasted it.

The taint in the water they drank, daring not to think what else was there. The food they salvaged, filled with fear at each bite.

He saw it.

And it filled every nightmare

Every thought

Every fear.

He wished he could forget.

The flesh, the fires

The faces.

He remembered the first one.

The one he loved.

He couldn't…no wouldn't believe.

That she could be taken like that.

He loved her.

And that love had to be enough to protect her.

He was wrong.

And he'll never forget.

A bullet between her eyes, screaming at his savior.

All because he wouldn't allow himself to believe.

"Wake up," the voice called though it wasn't needed.

It began again.

Dressing in silence, eating what they had saved.

The hot twilight air was better than the scorching days of summer but he still felt his body bathed in sweat.

"Come on."

He nodded to his brother.

They pressed forward, the day like any other.

Living dead hounding them.

Broken legs refusing to be walked on.

Hopelessness ready to crush their fragile bodies.

He counted the days since they last saw another living soul.

23...or was it 24.

He wondered if they were truly the only ones left.

But that would be mathematically unlikely.

There had to be others…somewhere….somehow that had made it though.

If the world had ended, what was the point of them continuing?

Why not just give up and end it now?

He felt the gun in his pocket.

Two bullets left

One more than he'd need to end this game.

"Do you hear that?"

He shook his head.

"Exactly."

He froze, his good leg nearly falling to the ground.

He knew what that meant.

The silent storm they had learned to call it.

All sounds of nature fled at the march of the undead.

"Let's go."

He felt his arm being pulled and before he knew it, his body was flung down an lightless alleyway.

Devoid of sight, they ran.

They didn't know what was ahead, but they knew what was coming.

They hoped that luck would hold out once more.

They reached the end, the murky moonlight telling them that it was only a dead-end.

He turned back for just a second, his brother's gaze shifting ahead for a sign of their escape.

"Zack look."

He held his hand out his arms trembling with fear.

"Damn."

"Anyway out?"

"No."

He saw his brother take the shot gun off his back, its barrel scratched and burnt from far too much use.

"Then we'll make one."

He swallowed hard as his brother took a step forward, the scars of the year of hell illuminated by the light of the stars.

He saw the gun take aim, a bluff he knew, since they had run out of ammo long ago.

But the undead stopped in their tracks just the same, perhaps an ounce of fear in them after all.

And he looked on as his twin charged forward, the barrel shattering flesh and bone. With skill produced by adrenaline and desperation, limps flew off and blood of the once living coated the young fighter.

He stood till one remained.

But then he looked into the face of the last one.

Something he had learned long ago not to do.

But seeing its…

Her face.

"Zack stop!"

The brother froze just long enough to see before jumping back to avoid a once human hand from slashing into his skin.

"Mom."

It was impossible.

But there she was, her face, her hair, even her eyes.

They were all hers.

Horribly distorted and twisted, but it was her just the same.

Zack froze.

Though she did no such thing.

With a lunge she hugged him, digging her decaying teeth into his shoulder.

He knew his mistake as soon as he called out.

But he couldn't resist.

He had forgotten that hope was a liability and it was either them or the zombies.

He raised his gun and fired it.

Sadness he had discarded long ago almost making its way back.

But he kept it away.

Instead he walked to his brother, felling his mother's blood seep through the holes in his shoes.

"She got me."

He looked to the wound, grabbing onto every memory, searching for a possible cure.

He could already see his brother transforming, the skin going grey, the eyes going cold.

He couldn't save him…it was too late.

"Please Cody."

Zack pointed to the gun.

"Don't let me become one of them."

He lifted the gun he had forgotten he held, stared down at his brother.

"I'm sorry Zack."

He couldn't take anymore of this. He needed an escape. What else did he have to live for now? What hope was there?

His brother, his defender, his hope, had fallen.

And so he picked up the gun, raised it to his head and said a joyful good bye.

With the softest pressure and the loudest explosion, he freed himself from the never ending nightmare.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was inspired by Sol Invictus' story Halflife (which is awesome and you should all read it…don't worry it's not as sad as this) and the random way my mind works late at night. **


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